


Harry Potter and the novel years

by Freya_Ambrosius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freya_Ambrosius/pseuds/Freya_Ambrosius
Summary: A young mind is a wonderful thing. Still filled with imagination. Full of laughter and songs that take place in wonderfully colorful fields of flowers. Unknowing of the dangers of the world. However, that is not the case for young Harry Potter. The boy who would sit in front of the typewriter for hours, his fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. Telling stories of adventure and loss. Of dreams and many wonderful beings. Stories of fear and darkness that creeps into the mind, sending men into insanity. Harry Potter didn’t have an innocent mind.





	1. Chapter 1

A young mind is a wonderful thing. Still filled with imagination. Full of laughter and songs that take place in wonderfully colorful fields of flowers. Unknowing of the dangers of the world. However, that is not the case for young Harry Potter. The boy who would sit in front of the typewriter for hours, his fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. Telling stories of adventure and loss. Of dreams and many wonderful beings. Stories of fear and darkness that creeps into the mind, sending men into insanity. Harry Potter didn’t have an innocent mind.

Harry was seven when he found the typewriter. It had been sitting in the Dursley’s attic for many years, its keys collecting dust. He had tripped over one of Dudley’s old video games and fallen just before it. Harry had examined it, wondering why the Dursleys had stuck it up in the attic. He pulled it out and pressed a few keys. Harry couldn’t stop. He sat in the attic for hours, creating a world where secrets were around every corner. When men could be more than just that. Where dangers paved every path.

Harry wrote what he saw. Different versions of his own reality. His writing was his way to escape his own life. His neighbor Mrs. Figg? In his stories she was the old woman who would always give travelers a place to stay. She had lived a life of hardship and wanted none other to feel how she had. His maths teacher was the hunter. He was swift in his thinking. Always up for a challenge. However, he was easily angered. Dudley Dursley was the Mayor’s son. He received what he wanted when he asked. There was no alternative as he knew none else, no better. He was raised spoiled. And Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? They were Kings and Queens. They had the public twisted around their fingers, no one dared oppose their opinions for fear of rejection. They opposed anything out of the ordinary and went to extreme lengths to get what they wanted.

Harry saw no black and white. He saw the many shades of gray that twisted and turned reality. He could see no evil nor good. The line between the two was well beyond blurred for Harry. Perhaps that’s what lead to the experiments. What led the sweet charming lad down what many would call the   
wrong road. What caused him to walk right where that line used to be.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet Harry.

Thank you so much for reading this story! Please give feedback and don't be afraid to share your opinions! In the end it always comes back to the readers! I hope you enjoy!  
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A soft clicking could be heard coming from under the stairs in 4 Privet Drive. It kept a quick pace and was accompanied by small chimes at various intervals. Murmurs could be heard if one with an acute sense of hearing were to listen closely. Together the sounds were almost melodic, or at least, enough to make you turn your ear towards the pleasant and hypnotizing ensemble.   
Eventually, a small door under the stairs opened and a small boy emerged. A sharp green eye scanned his surroundings searching for something. He emitted a sigh of relief when he didn’t find what he had been looking for. Though, In his eyes you could see that he was still worried. He crept into the kitchen, illuminated only by the light slinking out of the door from which he had just emerged.  
He reached towards the fridge, but flinched back at the last second as a snore shook the house. His eyes darted back to the area (cupboard) under the stairs, as though he was considering his options. He stood their silently, slightly curled in upon himself. He looked like he was trying not to be noticed. When a couple of minutes past and not another sound was heard from the area upstairs, he once more reached for the fridge.  
This time he succeeded in opening the fridge door. He grabbed the leftovers from last night's dinner with a hungry look in his eyes. Normally a small portion of the leftovers was given to him, but that day he had gone without supper because of an earlier incident at the Zoo. A Boa Constrictor had been set free when the glass had disappeared as though by magic. The boy's cousin, Dudley Dursley, claimed he had been attacked by the snake. (Harry had seen it playfully nip at his ankles)  
That wasn’t even the weirdest part. Before the glass disappeared, the boy swore he could hear and understand the snake. He had asked a question, not expecting the snake to actually respond. The boy thought he was insane. There was no way he was actually talking to the snake. Yet, he swore he could hear it telling him how he wanted to go to brazil. He didn’t dare tell his Uncle that, no, he didn’t have a death wish.  
Dudley’s mother, Petunia, had consoled Dudley until he stopped crying and rather, decided to point his finger at the boy, yelling “He did it! Harry did it! The freak did it! I saw him talking to it.” Vernon Dursley, Dudley’s father, decided to grab the back of the boy (now identified as Harry) by the back of his shirt and drag him to the car. Once in the car Vernon yelled at Harry like there was no tomorrow.  
Harry was scared of what the consequences of taking the food would be. By now, Harry was starving, he was willing to risk it. He was already malnourished and needed to get some form of nutrients. It was Sunday and Dudley’s birthday. Dinner had always been a big deal on Dudley’s birthday. There had been a feast the previous night and Harry was dying to get a piece of it. While reaching towards the higher shelf to get a plate of fruit, Harry accidentally dropped the food. The plastic container it was in did not break, but did make a loud noise.  
Harry quickly grabbed the container, but froze when he heard grunts and footsteps coming from the upstairs area. His eyes darted up and towards the cupboard. Harry crept back towards the stairs, attempting to be as quiet as possible. Before he could duck back into the cupboard Vernon Dursley turned the corner of the stairs and glared at Harry.  
“You. Why are you out of the cupboard you little freak,” Vernon growled, attempting to keep his voice down. “And what are you doing with my food.”  
Vernon was a large man. Despite all of the extra weight and the crumbs, that even hours later, littered his mustache, he was still quite intimidating to the 10-year-old boy. Enough so for Harry to be frozen with fear.Harry stood still, not making a sound. Vernon grunted and shuffled further down the stairs and towards Harry.   
“You’re lucky that we haven’t thrown you out of the house by now. We’ve taken care of you for all these years and this is how you repay us? Stealing! You are nothing but a freak!” Vernon’s voice rose as he shoved Harry back under the stairs. “You don’t deserve how well we treat you. Your parents were nothing but drunks and criminals. I always knew that you would turn out like them.” Vernon hissed the last part, his spit flying over Harry.  
Harry protested “But Uncle Vernon I-”  
His Uncle’s slammed his hand against the wall “Be quiet boy. You will do as I say.” Vernon locked the door to Harry’s cupboard.  
“Stay.” He growled before he lumbered back up the stairs. “You can come out when I say you can. No sooner.”   
Harry slumped back onto the small mattress the cupboard contained. He was terrified of his Uncle. The man was far from kind. He seemed to hate Harry with a passion. Luckily, in his rage, his Uncle Vernon hadn’t remembered to take away the food Harry had stolen.   
Harry ate part of it before saving the rest for later. After what had just happened, he doubted he was going to get any more to eat the next day, maybe even longer.  
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Harry picked up the pages he had just finished writing. He had been locked in the cupboard for hours and was to afraid to leave its confines. He just completed the 5th chapter of the story he was currently working on. His dark hair was tousled from running his hands through it so many times in thought and there were small ink smudges on his hands where he had touched the page before it was dry.  
His story was about a young man who had been whisked away from his home by the fey people. The man in his story had danced with the fey, unaware that anyone who agreed to join the fey’s dance couldn’t stop,. He’d be stuck there with the fey, slowly losing his memories of everything. He was sucked into a trap that he couldn’t escape.   
The man's home life was nice. The villagers were all nice to him except for a select few. He went with the fey because he wanted an escape from the dull village life.The part he was working on was about when he met the male fey who didn’t participate in the dancing. They ate from a great apple tree and talked until the female fey came to fetch the boy.  
Harry wished he could share his story with someone. He wanted to send his ideas out into the world, not keep them stuck inside 4 Privet Drive, a place that would never accept or appreciate his ideas. Harry knew that in a good story, every little detail matters. It all must connect to another idea that would reveal the true meaning behind the story. Those details often kept Harry up at night. What were the minute details in the story of his life? How did they all connect? Where was the climax? What exactly was the conflict?   
Harry knew that the Dursleys weren’t evil. There was some reason behind their treatment of him. Perhaps some wrathful or envious feeling remained for something Harry had done when he first came to them? Possible, but unlikely considering the exact details of how he was treated. Perhaps those same feelings towards someone else? Resentment towards his parents perhaps? After all, they were useless drunks as his Aunt put it.  
Harry was shaken out of his thoughts when his Aunt Petunia banged on his door. Her action shook the cupboard walls, sending dust and spiders onto his mattress.  
“Freak. Dudley wanted an apology for your behavior yesterday. Because of you he couldn’t see the Lion feeding or eat dinner at his favorite Restaurant. We had that reservation for months and you ruined it. Now, come out and apologize to my little Dudders.”  
Harry tried to hide a groan as he exited the cupboard. His cousin had no trouble getting his way. All he had to do was pretend to cry and point a his grubby fingers at Harry. Dudley hadn’t actually cried since he was 7 years old. However, that didn’t stop him from throwing his fits so he could get what he wanted.  
Harry walked towards Dudley, who was playing with his new race car while sitting on a chair in the kitchen. The chair looked like it was crying out in pain as it tried to keep up the weight of the obese boy. Harry slowly approached Dudley, hoping that being cautious would make it less likely for him to be socked in the nose.  
Harry sighed. Just another Day with the Dursleys.


End file.
